


dinner for three

by eraserheadbaby



Category: Tales of Graces, Tales of Series
Genre: F/M, f arc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:47:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23190373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eraserheadbaby/pseuds/eraserheadbaby
Summary: On crablettes, adulthood and never ending self-condemnation.
Relationships: Sophie/Richard Windor
Kudos: 5





	dinner for three

Sneaking past the guards is surprisingly easy. What troubles her some more is navigating herself through such a vast space and trying to remember the route she was shown before, but she manages that too.

The marble under her feet makes a loud dry echo, an echo that agitates every one of her modest steps. The plates, one on each of her hands, clatter too, as if wanting to betray the fickleness inside her. When she finally reaches the door, the handle echoes in that same way, but still she surely gets inside.

Everything inside is as she remembers – and she remembers well, she set up the room as it is now after all. Dusty, lightless, only occupied by crates and barrels. Safe and ataractic.

Sophie, still hesitant and trying to balance the plates, walks to the crates and sits amongst the consolatory fort the gap between them makes. She tries to wait, she really does, but it's only a few minutes until she picks up the plate she left next to her and starts chomping her crablette.

She's well done with her meal (and has started eyeing the second one next to her) when footsteps come together with a low voice. "Hey, Sophie. Glad to see you make good use of my old little fort."

It's an instinct – no, not an instinct, a part of pre – programming, she corrects – to tense up at the sound of that voice. But she has promised to put all that behind, hasn't she? It's the voice a friend – the pact they made all those years ago insists so.

"Richard...”, Sophie thinks for a minute if what she's about to ask is only part of her effort to reaffirm that promise carved on some old tree, but finds herself unexpectedly dissatisfied with that possibility. “... Do you want to sit with me?”

Richard's face carries just a bit of hesitation; Sophie would be lying if she said it didn't sting a little."I probably shouldn't. I told you before, I'm an adult, so I can't run away anymore."

Yes, he has told her before, and hearing it a second time doesn't make Sophie understand it any better. Why can't adults run away? And to make it all the more confusing, Richard recites this rule by his own volition, not by any order.

Maybe she can't understand adults simply because she will never be one.

"No, please. I – I want you to", she finally says to him, more urgent than she recalls feeling before.

With how taken aback Richard seems, it's encouraging when he sits next to her on the dirty floor. The mouth watering scent of cooked eggs and crab drifts through the contained air as she grabs one of the plates again and moves it towards Richard – no, she will resist, she must. For a moment, it's just her, Richard staring at her, and the crablette flaunting its deliciousness between them.

"For me? Are you sure? I know how much you love crablettes", Richard says, and now that he mentions it – Sophie nods as bluntly as she can.

Sophie finds herself counting the rattles from the forkfuls Richard takes. His way of eating is so graceful and quiet, she thinks, and that thought turns into a fist clutching her chest as she realizes that the only reason she finds that notable is because her manufactured mind had once registered Richard as a monster to be cut down.

"Well, I guess you've been right all this time! This is really good", Richard's words freeze her thoughts, and they're more than welcome.

"I know, right? The crab meat works so well with the eggs, and if you put just the bit of the right butter while frying it turns into a culinary masterpiece! Not to mention the cheese!"

Richard chuckles and keeps eating. Sophie almost gets sad seeing less and less crablette remaining on the plate, but it's somehow juxtaposed to the satisfaction that comes to her as Richard enjoys something she herself cherishes so much.

"So... did Asbel drive you crazy? What did he do again?". The words leak quietly and through mouthfuls of crablette, so Sophie almost doesn't hear them at first. Or so she tells herself.

"No, I just wanted to talk to you."

"Oh, sure. What is it?"

"Nothing...specific. I just wanted to spend time with you", Sophie admits this with the same simplicity as her ode to crablettes, but her heart's elevated beats don't seem to match her gutsy mouth.

Richard's cheeks get dusted by just the littlest pinch of pink, his eyes lowering just a little too. It's usually Asbel that provokes scenes like this, so Sophie doesn't feel right watching it from this angle – like she's peeking at something she's not supposed to.

She could pause this alien event with casual, unrelated talk, the way everybody else seems to do in moments like this. But whatever bubble has enveloped them now, Sophie will puncture it with what has been eating away at her since Richard arrived. Maybe she has to let it fester more inside her mind before externalizing it, but she wants to let her question be born prematurely.

“Why can't adults run away?”

Richard's face returns to its pallid state. He sets the plate down on the floor, and the porcelain gnashing the marble makes her momentarily shudder. But still he starts to speak – Sophie supposes that by itself is a short, kind of inapplicable answer to her question.

“Growing up is about taking responsibilities. Owning up to your mistakes and working to right your wrongs. Though, by that logic, you're not exactly hearing this from an exemplary adult...”

Richard has done nothing but take responsibilities, has done all he can to mend the pain his actions have caused – actions that were factually caused by a forced hand. And what responsibilities has Sophie taken? Just the one thrust onto her by her creators, the duty to see her friend as an enemy and hurt him.

When will she accept she'll never become an adult? By now, she should have swallowed the pill, no matter how tough it is. 

“So, if I never become an adult, I can keep running away?”. It's not a question posed out of want or curiosity, but out of nothing but surrender.

"... It's all up to you, Sophie. Of course, knowing you, I suspect you'll end up going on no matter what. But-" , Richard seems to chew his words before continuing. " - you can run away, if that's what you want. Sometimes... it's all too much, isn't it?"

"… Yes. But that doesn't mean I get to run away from everyone. I can't be this selfish”. That much she can say free of any uncertainty.

“If you are selfish, then I should win an award or something”. Richard's acrid chuckle gets under her skin in a way that almost makes her want to attack him again.

No, Richard, she wants to say then. I'll always be the more selfish one.

Deciding who is the most selfish, it feels like a cyclic race. A race that always ends on a dead heat, with both runners crossing a finishing line that is nowhere to be seen.

Richard looks straight at her and smiles. It's as if he doesn't sense the smoke suffocating them both, but he does, Sophie knows he does, because the smoke has reached his eyes, and they are starting to turn red and glazed.

There would always be clouds over their heads, never allowing them the catharsis of rain but always being there to shade whatever piece of sky they shared.

But Richard is still smiling at her, and Sophie decides she kind of likes cloudy skies, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> dialogue continues to be the bane of my existence whats new


End file.
